


Little Lights in the Dark

by karlbourbon



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist!Jim, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karlbourbon/pseuds/karlbourbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Jim and Bones painting stars on their ceiling with glow-in-the-dark-paint</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Lights in the Dark

“Jim, what in God’s name do you think you’re doing with those?” Len asks as Jim parades by. He’s carrying paint cans,  _full_ paint cans, and he has more in one hand than should be humanly possible. Len vaguely wonders how his arms haven’t ripped off yet.

Jim smiles brightly as he ducks past Len and into their bedroom. “I’m finally gonna do it, Bones. The stars have aligned; I can feel the creative juices flowing,” he says as he reappears, tapping his index finger against his temple for emphasis.

Len puts his hands on either side of Jim’s waist in an attempt to stop him from moving down the hall. “Darlin’ I love you, but you’re not a superhuman. We’re goin’ out to Georgia  _ tomorrow morning _ \--there’s no way for you to get all the paintin’ done by then.”

Jim eyes light up and Len mentally kicks himself because he should know better than to present something as a challenge to Jim.

“Watch me,” Jim says as he darts forward to peck Len’s cheek before twisting out of the cage of Len’s arms and continuing on his way down the hall.

Len sighs and wonders if he should call his mama now or later to say that they’re most likely going to miss their flight.

“The stars are in position for this, Bones!” Jim calls back over his shoulder with a laugh.

“I’ll put you in’a position,” Len growls just loud enough for Jim to hear.

“That sounds kinky--we can do that later.”

oOo

They’ve been living in the house for a few months now; long enough that they couldn’t say it was new, short enough that they still haven’t moved in completely (every time they try to unpack the last few boxes, they somehow find themselves getting distracted by… other things). When they first moved in, Jim announced that he was going to repaint every room so he could put his own personal touch on it (apparently just christening every room and surface wasn’t good enough).

Jim has done most of the rooms now. Len’s favorite is the mural in the kitchen--climbing ivy that weaves its way across the walls, pale purple vinca flowers that look so soft and fragile and  _ real _ he always finds himself reaching out to touch them. Jim’s favorite is the crashing blue-green ocean waves in the bathroom, but he swears that their bedroom will be the crown jewel.

“Dammit Jim! I’m a doctor not an invalid; I can paint a damn wall.”

Jim eyes Len carefully, like he’s an animal that might bolt at any second. “Are you sure about this, Bones? If you’re helping, that means no complaining about the mess ‘cause you’ll have had your hand in making it.”

Len raises his eyebrow. “You plannin’ on makin’ a mess, Jimmy?”

Jim shrugs. “Occupational hazard,” he says with a smirk.

“It’s not rocket science; hand me the damn paint roller.”

oOo

Jim sings while they work. He has a playlist called  _ Jim’s Jams _ that he blasts over their sound system. Rowdy classic rock, slow indie ballads, upbeat jazz, foreign electropop--a mish-mash collection that somehow manages to fit Jim to a T. Len thinks about hollering for him to turn it down because he can’t even hear his own thoughts, but when he turns around and sees how Jim is beaming and dancing around as he paints the wall he can’t help the smile that blooms on his face.

The paint is gunmetal gray. There are flecks of gold and silver in it that, as the paint pools in the tray, make it look like molten metal. Len has no idea what Jim has planned for their room, but the way the sunlight catches the flecks as the paint dries promises that it will be spectacular.

oOo

It’s late evening when they finally get to Phase Two: Set Phasers To Fun ( _ “Really, Jim?” “Yes, it’s the  _ fun part, _Bones!”_ ) of Jim’s Masterplan. It’s easy to see how excited Jim is. He’s even thrown a sheet over the cans of paint they’ll be using next, as if Leonard hadn’t already seen them. (He hadn’t actually looked that closely at them, but Jim doesn’t need to know that). Jim pulls the sheet away with a dramatic flourish. Len rolls his eyes.

“Glow-in-the-dark paint?” Len asks incredulously. “Seriously, what’re we? Five?”

Jim winks. “Trust me, Bones. This is gonna be awesome.”

“I always suspected you were more child than adult,” Len mutters as Jim pries the lid off the paint labeled ULTRA GREEN.

Jim chooses to ignore Leonard’s comment and thrusts a paint brush toward him. He smiles, wide and toothy; he looks up to no good, like the Cheshire Cat, and Len realizes he probably should have been more concerned over what his husband has planned.

“Now what do we do?” Leonard asks warily.

“This,” Jim says. He dips his brush into the can and then, with lightning speed, snaps his wrist and splatters the paint all over the wall.

“Jackson Pollock, huh?” Len asks as he dunks his own paint brush.

Jim looks immensely pleased with himself, like before him, Leonard had no knowledge of famous artists.

“Just don’t go all tortured artist on me,” Len says as he flicks the brush at the wall.

oOo

Splatter painting goes about as well as one would expect--fine at first, but then… downhill with the speed of a runaway train.

“Ceiling too, Bones,” Jim says as he flicks paint upwards. Some of it manages to stick, but most of it, like Newton’s apple, comes straight back down. And lands on Leonard.

Leonard runs a hand through his hair, spreading the globs of paint farther through the dark strands. “Did you just throw paint at me?”

Jim stifles a laugh. “No, of course not, Bones, I would never.” He tries to adopt an innocent expression, but if the way Leonard’s eyes narrow is any indication, it falls very flat.

“You little shit,” Len growls. He stomps across the room to where the can of paint is sitting and dips his brush in.

“Bones, c’mon. It was an accident,” Jim pleads as Leonard stalks toward him, wielding his dripping brush as a weapon.

“Good try, Jim,” Len says as he flicks the paint at him. Jim tries to dodge, but Leonard has thought about throwing things at Jim too many times--his aim is spot on and Jim ends up splattered in neon green paint.

It doesn’t take long for it to evolve into a full-fledged paint throwing war. Len is more than a little grateful that they hadn’t half-assed covering up their furniture before they began.

oOo

Breathless and out of paint, they collapse backwards onto their bed. Leonard wraps his arm around Jim, who snuggles closer and rests his paint-covered head on Len’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe we just had a paint fight,” Leonard says as they gaze up at the ceiling.

“I know, it was awesome!”

Len huffs a laugh and turns his head to press a kiss to Jim’s temple.

“Let’s see how it looks!” Jim exclaims as he clambers over Len, kneeing him in the stomach as he reaches for the light switch.

“Dammit Jim!”

The lights go out and they’re flooded with darkness.

“Sorry Bones,” Jim says as he settles back against Len.

The glowing paint looks dazzling in the dark. It’s almost like they’re laying outside and looking up at the cosmos stretching infinitely above them. It’s breathtaking and Leonard feels his heart swell with love and affection for Jim; how he can take the complex concept of space and recreate it so easily--it’s amazing.

Leonard turns his head to look at Jim who’s still looking up towards the ceiling. “Beautiful,” he says and he doesn’t just mean the room.

Jim smiles like he doesn’t hear the double meaning in Leonard’s voice. He reaches over for the arm Len doesn’t have wrapped around him and intertwines their fingers. “You’re glowing, ya’know.”

Leonard shrugs (as well as he can laying down with Jim’s head on his shoulder). “I’m happy.”

Jim laughs. The sound vibrates through Len and shakes butterflies loose in his stomach. Through all the years of knowing Jim, he hopes the feeling never goes away. “Nah,” Jim says. “I think it’s just ‘cause some asshole splattered glow-in-the-dark paint on you.”


End file.
